


Bleed, Honey

by wordsliketeeth



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Biting, Blood Loss, Blood Sharing, Bondage, Card Games, Crushes, Cunnilingus, Demon Anatomy, Demon Sex, Developing Relationship, F/M, Face-Sitting, Femdom, Gags, Hair-pulling, Riding, Rough Sex, Switching, Teasing, loss of consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26143822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsliketeeth/pseuds/wordsliketeeth
Summary: You feel Levi's abdominal muscles tighten beneath your fingertips and notwithstanding his customary gracelessness and ineptitude in uncomfortable situations, you remind yourself that Levi is still a demon. For as much as you're enjoying having the upper hand, you're resourceful enough to know not to push your luck. You have spent enough time in the Devildom to know when to toe the line and when you can cross it.The evils of envy and jealousy may not be as destructive as a fiendish outburst of wrath but a snake doesn't have to be poisonous to pass oneself off as venomous.
Relationships: Leviathan/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 168





	Bleed, Honey

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I kept Levi as canon as possible but I wanted to give a more accurate representation of what a demon should be like. It's a personal preference but I prefer my demons to act like demons, and regardless of how much I love Obey Me, I think their portrayals of the boys are a bit too soft. That being said, Levi is still very much Levi!

He should have seen this coming, should have known better than to make a bet with Mammon. Despite all of his debts and gambling propensities, Mammon is the slickest short-card player in the Devildom. Going up against him in the art of swindling isn't unlike begging for your own demise. Mammon is a dirty card himself, which is ironic considering how quick he is to take his opponents to the cleaners.

And Levi knew better, he _knew_ that conquering Mammon was akin to wagering his entire Ruri-chan collection—and that just _didn't happen_. There are very few who can cut through the demon's lacework of fraud, forgery, and chicanery, and Levi is no Lucifer; where the eldest brother's native wit cut clean, Levi walked away in a tangled mess of viscid silk.

What's more, is that Levi's remarkable act of oversight was built on the grounds of: _you have to do whatever the winner says._ Like a moth drawn to a flame, inclusive of the insect's notoriously good hearing, Levi was drowning in the chalice of opportunity before considering its depths. By the time the risk registered, it was too late and the message was sinking in as Mammon proudly claimed his spoils of war—Levi was to surrender himself to you completely and without exception.

And all Levi had wanted was for his slimy, traitorous, money-grubbing brother to pay his dues.

Now, as he's bound to your bed in chains provided by a certain smirking (blond) brother, he thinks about tearing Mammon limb from limb with painstaking distinctness until he's nothing more than bits of bone and gore. He's executing a plan that will carry him through the next one hundred years, and he's deciding on his weapons of choice when you enter the room.

You begin to make your way across the space, slipping a robe from your shoulders when you reach the center of the room rife with nature and redolent with the perfume of roses. Levi's eyes grow wide with surprise when he realizes that you're donning nothing more than the skin you were born into. A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth when you catch a twitch of arousal stir beneath his boxer shorts. A character you don't recognize intersperses the colorful cotton in a series of generic cartoon forms, a girl with candy floss-colored hair and bubblegum on her lips. For a brief moment, you regret not utilizing the, presumably overpriced, fabric as a gag instead of the plain scarf that's been haphazardly stuffed into his mouth. You quickly dismiss the concept as a negligible factor, however, and turn your focus to the task at hand.

“Don't you think that you're a bit too old to be fantasizing over animated girls?” you tease, brushing your fingers over the jut of his anklebone. You smile when he tries to jerk his foot away reflexively and narrows his eyes in your direction. “You might not be the archetype of lust but you're still a demon. Surely you must have many women who would be willing to sleep with you.” You walk your fingers up his calf while shifting your free hand to the curve of your breast. Levi watches you with rapt attention, and the orange cast that burns in his eyes turns to fire that drags heat down the length of your spine. You slide your fingers across your skin and ghost your fingertips over a nipple in an attempt at seduction, your blood hot and already blistering with desire. “Or is it that you're just too much of a shut-in to delight in the pleasures of sex?”

Levi mumbles something that gets lost to the cloth in his mouth. You consider removing the makeshift muzzle but decide to exploit his inability to speak for a while longer. You drag your fingertips over his knee and watch him squirm beneath the titillating caress. You can taste the artificial sweet on your lips when you press them together, smearing moisture into the fine cracks that line your mouth.

“You know, I thought about this for a long time before finally settling on how exactly I wanted you,” you tell him, fingers reaching the middle of his thigh. “Originally, I wanted your arms chained above you, body bare, no gag...” You trail off momentarily, just long enough to graze the inside of his pale thigh with your teasing touch. “I was going to make you beg but I was worried that you might try to bargain with me.” You brush your knuckle against the center of his boxers and pretend not to notice the way his eyes flutter under the pretense of pleasure. “Plus, I thought I'd save you the humiliation of trying to formulate an aggregation of nonsensical excuses. You do have a terrible habit of stuttering when you're put on the spot.”

Levi growls and the vibration of it reverberates in his chest, spreads through him like thunder in the contralto compass. The fire in his gaze is turning to smoke and you can tell by the sharp angle of his jaw that he's biting down on the blend of fibers set between his teeth.

“There's no need for that,” you tell him, flattening your palm against the low of his abdomen. “I was only trying to spare you the embarrassment of going to pieces in front of me.” It's not entirely true—one of the things you love most about Levi is his inability to keep himself together in situations outside of his element—but you have a performance to uphold so you keep the truth to yourself for the time being.

You feel Levi's abdominal muscles tighten beneath your fingertips and notwithstanding his customary gracelessness and ineptitude in uncomfortable situations, you remind yourself that Levi is _still_ a demon. For as much as you're enjoying having the upper hand, you're resourceful enough to know not to push your luck. You have spent enough time in the Devildom to know when to toe the line and when you can cross it.

The evils of envy and jealousy may not be as destructive as a fiendish outburst of wrath but a snake doesn't have to be poisonous to pass oneself off as venomous.

You trace vague shapes across Levi's stomach and up to his chest, your eyes trained on his face. His returning gaze is sharp and there's something imminently dangerous shining behind his sectoral irises. Heat stirs in the low of your belly and a thrum of anticipation settles between the apex of your thighs. Your head begins to feel heavy, dizzy with prurience, and your heart feels like it's racing against the torrent of your thoughts.

You want to play with him a bit longer but something is calling to you, demanding your presence in the shape of immediate surrender. Dark shadows of arousal reach for you like dead branches in a moonlit forest and the hunger to hand yourself over to desire becomes too much to bear.

Levi follows the movement of your hand as you reach for him, fingers closing on the fabric in his mouth. “I'm not giving you permission to speak. I'm hoping that mouth of yours knows how to move on more than otaku speech and SMS language. Otherwise, I'm going to be very disappointed.” With that said, you draw the damp cotton out of his mouth and toss it aside.

Levi moistens his lips and no sooner than the pink of his tongue disappears back into his mouth, you climb onto the bed and straddle his face. The bed dips slightly under the dig of your knees and a strain of tension collects along the insides of your thighs as you lower yourself over him. His breath hitches and he makes an appreciative noise that slips into a groan when you slide two fingers over your labia, opening yourself up to him.

Your body tingles with excitement and expectation but even with the sexual confidence reposed in you, you can't help but feel anxious due to the proximity of Levi's face and his searching gaze. Your disquiet is arrested almost immediately, however, because Levi is pulling himself up as much as his binds will allow to run his tongue between your folds. The feeling is intoxicating and you're left to shiver and brace yourself against the vine-like construction of your bed's headboard as Levi explores your sex with his tongue.

Levi growls and the sound vibrates through you, has you grinding yourself down against his lips. He flattens his tongue and drags the length of it up between your slick folds before flicking the tip of it over your clit. Your body quivers in response but before you can recover from the shock of sensation, Levi latches onto the sensitive organ with his lips. You inhale a sharp intake of breath and lower your hand to tug hard at his hair. He moans and pushes himself in closer, drinking your slick like rain in a desert to a thirsty man.

You can hear your breathing shift into irregularity, coming hard and fast, each breath growing higher and higher in pitch until you feel like you're shrinking in size like a balloon that's lost its shape. If Levi hears the tones of your desperation, he delights in the sound by lazily circling his tongue around the oversensitive and swollen nub. You involuntarily squeeze your legs around his face and tug harder at his hair, drawing him nearer as he shifts his approach. His tongue, soft and quick, slides lower until the tip of it is fucking into you.

You close your eyes and set your teeth against the bottom line of your mouth. You refused to make any assumptions about Levi before coming here but you most definitely hadn't expected this—maybe there's something to be said about the maxim that the quiet ones are the kinkiest in bed—whether true or false, you _know_ that you've never felt anything like this before. You're riding so high you feel like you could touch the sky and you couldn't care less about what could happen should you fall.

You're rolling your hips and unabashedly indulging in the pleasure cresting in your veins when suddenly, something rigid skims the inside of your wrist. You open your eyes and chase the point of contact. Your hand, still tangled in a mess of purple hair, is now centrally located between two dark, branched horns. You come to the sudden realization that the tongue moving inside of you is pressing deeper, touching places that are humanly impossible. You emit a high-pitched sound that does little for your current character but the bifurcated points of Levi's tongue are brushing against a wall of spongy tissue that prompts an outburst of stars to flash behind your eyes.

Levi's tail, long and cool and serpentine, wraps around your waist and tugs you backward. You fumble for some semblance of control and reflexively grapple at balance despite Levi's ability to keep you upright. He stills when you reach his muscled thighs and when you're finally granted with stability, you notice several things at once: the tilted grin on his mouth, the wetness on his chin that extends in a trail down his chest and stipples his abdomen, and the impressive bulge straining against the confines of his boxers. The diamond-shaped markings that dapple his skin catch in the light like holographic images and his tail, which is presently draped across his abdomen, seems to scintillate. At a distance, it looks obsidian, but from your current vantage point, you can see glistening hues of the deepest greens and blues, overlaid by a celestial luster.

You thought Levi attractive at the outset of your arrival but this is the first time that you've seen him at such a close distance and you can't help but be captivated by his beauty. You reach out and trail your fingers over an adamantine rhombus, unsurprised to find that it's slightly scaly but contrarily amazed at how warm it is beneath your touch.

Levi tugs at the chains binding his wrists and shifts his hips, a moan purring up the back of his throat. Your lips curve on a smile indicative of your pleasure at seeing him in such a desperate state. You slide your hand down to his boxers, the fabric now stretched to the limit and damp with precome. You drag the pad of your thumb over his weeping cockhead and Levi exhales an impatient hiss of breath.

“Stop teasing me,” he pleads. His voice is gentle but with a sibilance that holds a threat of danger—suitable of a serpent.

“I don't remember giving you permission to speak,” you tell him while tracing the shape of his cock under your palm. “It's simple: if you're obedient, I'll reward you. If you misbehave, I'll draw this out long enough that you'll miss out on those pre-sale tickets you've been lusting after.”

A look of panic flickers through his gaze but it's quickly shrouded by the innate desire to please. He presses his lips together, whether, for show or necessity, you're not entirely sure but it's emblematic of his compliance and that's all you need to spur you on. You slide your hand up to the elastic hugging close to his skin and slip your fingers beneath the waistband. It takes you a moment to draw his cock out into the open air, not for difficulty but surprise—his cock is impressive not only in length but also in girth, warm to the touch, and smoother than glass.

You run your digits up and down the hard line of his cock experimentally before wrapping your hand around its breadth. You begin to stroke over him, finding no friction where you're used to resistance—the catch of a palm or the slight ridge of a vein—there's nothing but polished movement and unhindered consistency. A pearly bead of slick leaks out of his slit and you notice that even against the pale of his skin, the viscous fluid is slightly unusual in color, almost yellowish—like the snake venom of some species.

When it becomes evident that Levi is at full hardness and you can't quell your curiosity any longer, you lift yourself just high enough to fit the head of his cock against your slick entrance. Your thighs shake with strain and anticipation and when you work yourself down on his length, the slide is effortless. You exhale a shudder of breath and take a moment to adjust to the feeling of being stretched to fullness.

Levi closes his eyes and a look of sheer pleasure overtakes his features. He parts his lips for breath and you can see the elongated points of his teeth, sharp enough to nick the bottom line of his mouth. You lean forward and catch yourself on your palms, caging Levi between your arms as you begin to work yourself back on his cock, body fluctuating from warm to overheated. You duck your head, and despite your rough and urgent movements, you gently flit your tongue over the droplets of blood that stain his bottom lip.

Levi moans passionately and nips at your mouth as you begin to draw away. One of his fangs catches your tongue and you can taste blood spread over the sting. You feel dizzy on heat and overwhelmed by lust, your body is growing slick with sweat and your limbs are beginning to shake from exertion. Still, you rock yourself back with all the ferocity of an animal as your bodies draw together with the imperativeness of uniting elements.

Levi looks at you with the intensity of a beast stalking its prey, and when he sticks out his tongue, it's as if his carnal thoughts are written across his eyes. You open your mouth and let the sanguine fluid that's tainting your aperture with iron freckle his lips and mottle his tongue.

Levi revels in the taste of your blood in the same manner he drank in your arousal not ten minutes ago—like ambrosia and nectar, a delicacy meant to be savored. His eyes are radiant with concupiscence, glowing like flames burning in the middle of a deep blue sea. You feel like you're drowning in his gaze, suffocating in the smoldering embers of a fever dream. And there's something so compelling about the way that it feels that it's almost frightening, in that it makes it easy to concede to the concept of dying this way.

You push yourself up, using the strain in your shoulders and the instability behind Levi's gaze as encouragement to move. You rest your palms on his chest for balance, body moving like the ebb and flow of the ocean, his heart beating just as steadily beneath your hands. You vacillate your hips and with each downward flux, you flex your fingers, nails scratching at Levi's pale skin reflexively.

Your breath is coming in short pants but even so, for every breath you take, Levi takes three. Your heart is beating wildly in your chest and every cell in your body feels like they're being reborn. Your muscles burn with every shift and Levi is like a match to your skin, your body made of chemical explosives that detonate when the heat becomes too much to endure.

Static hums in your ears and you don't register the breaking of chains until Levi is already moving. He braces his hands on your hips and overbalances your equilibrium. He dominates your position and you're seconds away from breaking into pieces when your back comes into contact with the mattress. Levi manages to stay deeply rooted inside of you the entire time and the shift causes your receptiveness to evolve into hypersensitivity.

Levi's hands feel like they're everywhere at once—like he's making up for lost time and the want to paint bruises onto your complexion. He fucks into you like there's a storm coming and he's the wind that cuts through your skin. You feel like you're swimming in the ocean and the waves are getting steeper. The chains around his wrists are cold against your skin but you appreciate the way they assuage the fever he's putting inside of you.

Levi sweeps his thumbs over your turgid peaks, his palms fondling the weight of your breasts as he ducks his head low enough to share in your breathing. His movements are remarkably fluid despite the precariousness of his position, and when he lowers a hand to your clit, star showers dot your vision. The ocean you're swimming in crashes around you and you feel like you're sinking.

You close your eyes and feel Levi's hair tickle your cheek when he moves to press his lips against the smooth column of your throat. You wrap your arms around his back and rake your nails down his skin as an orgasm stronger than the Keeper of the Winds himself tears through you. Halfway through your climax, however, Levi sinks the sharp points of his teeth into your neck, and the magnitude of what you felt seconds ago intensely multiplies, spreading you thin and taking you out to the cosmos. You cry out and slip through the nebulous haze of full-body capitulation. You can feel Levi spill himself to completion inside of you and the vibration of a moan through his fangs as he continues to drink you, openly and unashamedly. You squeeze your eyes shut tighter and feel a series of tremors pass through your limbs. You're so far gone that when you trip over a constellation you lose gravity and slip into the ether.

When you open your eyes and let the soft glow of candlelight into your vision, you come to the understanding that you're only finding awareness because you lost consciousness. You sit bolt upright and groan as sharp pain lances through your head and you're stricken by a whirling sensation.

“Are you okay?” Levi asks you, and it's all you need to revive the evening's events.

“How long was I unconscious?” you manage despite the dryness overtaking your throat.

“N-not long,” he answers, eyes shifting from your face to the rumpled bed covers. “I didn't m-mean to take things that f-far,” he stammers, cheeks flushing with heat. “But a normie like you should know better! You should know not to chain up a demon, especially when you plan on doing...” he trails off, the stammer leaving his speech for only a moment before he stops speaking entirely.

“So if I hadn't asked Satan to chain you to the bed, this wouldn't have happened?” You arch an eyebrow and Levi must catch the skepticism in your countenance because he's groaning in frustration.

Levi hides his face behind his hands and speaks through the cracks in his fingers. “I d-don't know. I've never done anything like this with a human before!” He lowers his hands and attempts an expression of indignation but it only makes him appeal to you further because shame and degradation have a special place in your heart. “I bet you thought I was a v-virgin,” he says hotly, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed.

“I had my suspicions,” you answer honestly. “I didn't imagine you'd abandon your personal interests long enough to bother with sex. Besides,” –a lofty smile spreads across your lips– “in a way, you were a virgin. When it comes to having sex with a human, anyway.”

Levi scoffs and rolls his eyes, absentmindedly tugging at the blanket strewn across his lap. His appearance is back to normal, having shed his demon form sometime before you came to, but it's plain to see that he didn't find time to put on anything more than the boxers you left him in. Furthermore, it's obvious that he feels vulnerable and wholly exposed by the shade of pink spreading out across his skin.

“Y-you're not that s-special,” he stutters over the otherwise quiet of the room. “This n-never would have happened if I'd won that stupid bet against Mammon.”

You stare at him directly, all too aware of the way your brazenness is trespassing on Levi's comfort zone. You tilt your head, deliberately keeping the fresh wound on your neck in plain sight. “Do you regret it?” you ask him, trailing your fingers up to the throbbing injury.

Levi glares at you and runs a hand through his thick hair. The line of his jaw tightens and his shoulders draw back into visible lines of tension. “Of c-course not. I just don't trust your normie tactics. You might think that I'm impressionable because I'm a shut-in but you'd do well to remember that I'm just as dangerous as my brothers.”

“I guess I'll just have to keep working on your confidence until you can trust me then,” you tell him, drawing your hand away from your neck to find blood on your fingertips. Levi's eyes darken at the claret stain but he maintains his common form. Then he shifts his gaze to look you in the eye, interest and curiosity overshadowing the apprehension that framed his face previously.

But being the domineering person that you are, you decide to press him a little harder. You shift yourself closer to Levi and rest your hand on the bend of his knee. “Maybe next time I can fuck you...” you say hopefully, biting down on a smile that threatens to shatter your put-on innocence.

Levi stares at you like you're something out of this world—which you suppose when you get down to brass tacks is true, but then he shakes his head in bafflement and says: “That's what we just did. Are you trying to embarrass me by talking about it?” His features are too hard and he's too stiff, and it's evident that he's trying to uphold an air of confidence when in reality, he's overwrought on the inside.

You manage to restrain most of the laughter that crowds your throat and exhale a huff of amusement instead. “No, I was talking about fucking you.” Levi knits his brows together and you can see that it's just not adding up. “You know, like with a strap-on,” you continue, slowly losing your composure.

Levi's eyes suddenly grow larger, his pupils blowing wide, and if scarlet fever was a symptom of shock, it would be safe to say that the demon was seized with delirium for the flush mantling his skin. Once he recovers from the impact of your words, however, he's pressing your back up against the cold stone and vines of greenery that climb your walls.

“Do you really think I'd like that?!” he blurts, fingers biting into the thin skin of your wrists. “Wh-why are you smirking like that? This isn't funny!”

You shake your head and smile in a way that spreads a blanket of warmth over your eyes. “There's a saying that we have in the human world and it's: don't knock it till you've tried it, and I'm not hearing 'no' so...”

A low growl spreads through Levi's chest and before you can utter another word, he fits his lips against your own in a rough and hungry kiss. And you know that Levi intends for the kiss to serve as means of distraction, an act of defiance, but while diversion runs parallel to rejection, the two paths never meet.

Meaning that there's still room for encouragement, and you just so happen to excel in the art of persuasion.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
